“Later,” she promised with a sigh.
Later never came. Or rather, later came, but with it the tiredness that led to instant sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillows. Nothing could have prepared him for the dreams:
He was walking along Temptation Avenue.
He looked left. Full bouncing orbs, hanging downwards but still firm. He wanted to reach out and feel the smooth skin under his fingertips. He resisted and won.
He looked right. What seemed like hundreds of tight, round, reddish buds. He had the urge to touch and tease, then to gently caress them with his tongue. Instead he looked away.
Ahead he saw large round mounds of tight flesh begging to be stroked. He scrunched his eyes tight to avoid further temptation.
He woke with a start. The sun was slowly rising on a chilled Saturday morning.
“Harvest time,” he whispered to his slumbering wife, “I’ll go out and gather up some fruit right now before I forget.”